(Continued from page 175.)
CHAPTER V.
Next morning, at the usual hour, Marguerite was at the door of the Conciergerie.
The thread of affairs had become so intricate—matters that she felt at liberty to explain to her father, and other circumstances, which regard for the page’s safety forbade disclosing—that, for the first time in her life, she felt ill at ease in his presence. She was conscious of being, to a certain degree, culpable—the unreserved confidence hitherto subsisting between father and daughter was no more—there was reservation, and it produced distress, regret, and confusion.
Still she was true to her own intent. She had made a deliberate resolve of secrecy when her mind was calm and free to judge, and she would not break it when in a state of fluttering and depression. The veteran was delighted with the progress in his affairs—there was yet some chance, he said, of his being able to make provision for a dutiful daughter—some temporal solace for old age.
Leaving him after a short visit—for, in truth, she felt much of what he said as a secret reproach—Marguerite hastened to the advocate.
“The packet is deposited in sure hands—and not at the Tuileries, Monsieur Giraud!” was her salutation.
“And half an hour hence will see me at the Hôtel De Fontrailles,” replied the party addressed.
“But I dread the peril you incur, Monsieur,” rejoined the damsel; “is there no”—
“Has Marguerite done her duty?” demanded Giraud, interrupting her.